Raylan is markedly correct - the enthusiasm withers and dries out completely by the time the cowboy stops talking, green eyes flicking back and forth between the two men.

For a moment, he considers blinking the hell out of there, a slow sigh pushed shallowly against the ache of broken bone.

His stare does sharpen when Malcolm mentions the man, and if Five's tension was passive before, it's taut as bowstring now and if he could throw hands with tall, dark and mysterious, he would. "The man — "

"— That asshole wasn't there when I tried." He leans himself on whatever the nearest solid object is. "And gee, what happened? I made it to other side and got swatted off by nothing. Punchline of a shit chicken joke."

"And why do you want to know, exactly? Getting a slingshot ready?"